Small Matters
by dancing in daydreams
Summary: After the Fall of Erebor, Thorin and Dwalin realise how much comfort can be found in small things.


When the sun was about to set, they found a slightly more stable place in the marshes they were crossing and made camp. It was not much of a camp, since few of the dwarves carried more than they were wearing.

While the exhausted dwarves settled down for the night and tried to get comfortable with what little they had, Thorin made his rounds through the camp. He assigned guards for the night and tried to keep up the morale by speaking encouraging words to the exiles.

Darkness had settled by the time Thorin finally sat down beside Dwalin. Thorin breathed out and let the murmuring voices become background noises instead of countless dwarves looking to him for guidance.

Dwalin handed him a bowl. "Water with herbs. If you're lucky, you might catch a taste of that deer Dís shot today."

Thorin nodded in thanks, took his spoon from a pocket and began eating. Dwalin was a warm presence at his side in the cold autumn air.

Finally, Thorin finished eating and set the bowl down.

"Three more drowned today," Thorin said. "The marshes aren't letting us cover as much ground each day as we should."

After being turned away by the woodelves, they had kept to the road to the Iron Hills at first, hoping for quick and easy travelling. Unfortunately, the orcs had been drawn out following the destruction of Erebor. They had learnt this the hard way on the third night of their flight. After that, they had left the road and travelled through the wastelands and marshes. So far, there had been no more attacks but Thorin and his father weren't willing to take any chances.

Dwalin nodded. "We should have reached the rise yesterday. If we're lucky we finally will get there tomorrow."

A child nearby began wailing loudly, probably wakened by yet another nightmare of flames from the sky. Thorin leaned against Dwalin.

After several minutes, Dwalin spoke again, his voice even quieter than before. "Do you think we will reach the Iron Hills before Durin's Day?"

Thorin gave a minute shake of his head. "I've spent most of the day telling everyone that it's possible, that we will be there before the last of our rations run out, but at the speed we are travelling…. There's just not enough game either. That one deer today was barely enough to give some of the children a small piece of meat and add the slightest bit of flavour to the soup."

They lapsed into silence again and watched as the full moon appeared above the distant rise.

"We would be at your feast now," Thorin said softly.

"Don't," Dwalin said gruffly. "Small matters like birthdays are of no concern and we should not dwell on what could have been."

"You're right," Thorin admitted. "But I do have a small gift for you."

He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a small round object wrapped in what once had been brightly coloured paper.

"I happened to have this with me when…. Well, I saved it since I know how much you like toffees."

Thorin held the toffee out to Dwalin, but Dwalin shook his head.

"You should give it to someone else, to one of the children."

"And to which one? I can't give it to one while all of the others get nothing. No, it's for you. You should get to eat at least one nice thing on your birthday, as small a thing as it may be."

After a moment of hesitation, Dwalin inclined his head and took it. "Thank you."

Dwalin reverently unwrapped it, smoothing out the paper and putting it into his own pocket. He inhaled the scent of the toffee before placing it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and Thorin could see that he was torn between devouring and savouring it. In the end, reason won out and Dwalin tried to make the toffee last as long as he could.

The sounds of the camp quieted as more and more of the dwarves lay down and went to sleep. They could hear that night's guards make their rounds around the camp in the distance. Dwalin wrapped his arms around Thorin and Thorin felt some of his tension fade as he listened to Dwalin's breathing.

Finally, they lay down on the ground, Dwalin's cloak as a pillow beneath their heads. Thorin covered them with his own cloak as well as he could before turning around for a kiss. He could feel Dwalin grin as Thorin deepened the kiss when he tasted the toffee. That night was the first time neither of them dreamt of flames.


End file.
